


And in this moment I am happy

by gotfanfiction



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff and Angst, M/M, small chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: Jaskier knows nothing about child rearing, but that didn't stop Yennefer from leaving him to mind a baby on his own. Said baby was also his former friend Geralt of Rivia, cursed into infancy.Shenanigans and soft feelings ensue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 36
Kudos: 409





	1. Congrats, it's a Witcher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kayeych](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayeych/gifts).



> This is for @kessabeen on twitter, for a prompt :^] I went with de aging bc it seemed more fun and I hurt myself but that's fairly typical for me. Sorry it's taking me so long, hun, but I am working on it.

It had been a fairly strange day, all things considered.

Jaskier stared down at the baby he was cradling as gently as he knew how, and felt the vague panic that had been pulsing somewhere behind his eyes increase in tempo.

What was Yennefer even thinking? _'Mind the head'_ , indeed! Like he knew how to care for an infant! Jaskier bobbled the babe a bit, just to see his tiny, scrunched up face scrunch up even more in a scrunchy little baby smile.

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but in that moment, he felt his already overwhelming lovefor Geralt of Rivia swell up into something adjacent to devastation.

Well, that settled it, then.

\--**--

Yennefer had been kind enough to portal them to some quaint cottage in an equally quaint village before she'd fucked off to who knows where, and Jaskier could only hope she hadn't bespelled some poor bastards out of their home.

He placed the baby onto the sole bed in the place, sat down on the chair he dragged over, and stared some more.

Sitting and staring at a baby. _His_ baby? His for now, at the very least, which was still massively alarming.

Jaskier really didn't have the first clue. He was going to have to beg knowledge off someone, as soon as possible. Babies needed milk, right? _This_ baby would eventually turn into a witcher, but right now he was as fragile as any other, non mutated, human.

The baby, _Geralt_ , fussed a bit, and Jaskier hummed something soft and sweet, something half remembered from his own childhood, doing his best not to let his panic leak into his voice. 


	2. A Bit Overboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt couldn't grouse at him, being a baby and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm wrote this all this morning in less than an hour so maybe this has finally got me latched on properly. I'm so punny :]

Jaskier let all his supplies fall to the floor with a sigh. Geralt blinked up at him from his sling, content after his meal of mashed up potatoes.

Apparently he was old enough to not _need_ milk, but still too young to chew up pieces of food without choking, so while Jaskier didn't need to find a wet nurse, he did have to crush everything up up for his friend.

He'd made something of a scene this morning, running through the main street of village with a wailing infant clutched to his breast, but thankfully a few kind souls took pity on him, helping him feed and wash and change poor little Geralt.

Geralt settled as soon as he'd been fed and watered, and Jaskier had nearly burst into tears himself, relief at last from tiny screams and tears.

A local woman showed him how to wrap a sling for ease of carrying, informing him that his 'son' was of an age for solids and crawling about; how could he not know this, and also where is the boy's mother?

Jaskier had stared at her in a panic, then buried his face in Geralt's fine mop of curls to try and think of answer that wasn't the truth: the boy was actually a man, there was no mother unless one counted Yennefer -no sane person would- and Jaskier most assuredly wasn't his father.

Her face softened though, eyes lingering on how he held the babe so close to him, and his distraught expression was mistaken for grief.

She directed him to what passed for a market in a village so small; he gratefully pressed a few coins into her hand and left to find Geralt more age appropriate things.

\--**--

Jaskier may have gone a bit overboard. 

He bought two soft blankets, two pairs of equally soft slippers, four tunics, twelve cloths for diapers, and two toys. There was also dried meats, eggs, a few loaves of bread and oats, for porridge.

The another soft little doll, because Geralt looked at it and made an inquiring sort of noise, and Jaskier, the soft hearted fool, couldn't bear to not buy it for him.

Last on the list, as it were, was a sack of potatoes, so that Jaskier wouldn't have to carry it as long. He's still mostly convinced he's thrown his back out by the time he gets back to his temporary home.

He sets Geralt on the floor, and now that he really looks at him, in the full light of day, he's not so small as that. Still tiny, but definitely happy to crawl around and chew on things.

It must have been abject terror skewing his perspective, making his friend seem tinier and more delicate than he was.

Jaskier barricades Geralt in with pillows and blankets, giving him his new toys to distract him so he could step into the garden without too much worry, to pull out some too young carrots. He snapped off a handful of rosemary and a few sprigs of thyme, because he may as well. 

Geralt couldn't grouse at him for it, being a baby and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please tell me if there's any hideous typos. I have no beta, and I'm typing this up on my phone RIP my thumbs


	3. Terrible Twos, Or, Why Are You Sticky I Just Cleaned You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier was feeling a great deal of sympathy towards any woman who had born and raised a child, or more than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this devolved into me being sad about my son growing at some point, and I apologize.

Something was touching his face. Something warm, and sticky, and now there was definitely a finger up his nose, ugh.

Jaskier opened his eyes, and most certainly did not shriek at the strange toddler who was determined to cram another digit into Jaskier's left nostril.

After removing the offending fingers and soothing the startled tears, Jaskier sat the child down on a chair and let him shove fistfuls of thick porridge into his face. Not the most dignified thing, but Geralt didn't seem to care much, and he was no longer weeping, so Jaskier could not, just at the moment, bring himself to care either. 

Geralt was undeniably aging. It seemed to come in fits and spurts; one moment he would just be... bigger than he was the moment before. So it seemed that the spell, or curse, or whatever, was only meant to be temporary.

Perhaps it was simply a witcher's natural, or unnatural, resistance to magic that had kept the magic from taking, or had twisted into something harmless but nevertheless debilitating. Not that Jaskier knew anything about what was going on, thank you _very_ much Yennefer. Maybe this was the whole point of the spell; it was much easier to kill a child than it was to kill an adult.

He scooped Geralt up and kissed his filthy, adorable face, much to his small friend's delight. He decided not to think of it anymore, and focused instead on smothering Geralt with as much love and affection as he could.

\--**--

Jaskier was feeling a great deal of empathy towards any woman who had born and raised a child, or more than one. He'd only had one toddler for a few days and was absolutely run ragged.

Geralt seemed to understand much of what Jaskier was saying, and could even say a few words himself, but also took great delight in ignoring his minder and stampeding around the small home, hitting things with his toys and shouting as loudly as he was able.

Jaskier could only assume this was normal, not having spent much time around children, and quickly realized that the best way to keep Geralt from climbing onto something tall and carelessly leaping to his death was to hold him in his arms.

Geralt _loved_ to be carried, and loved even more when Jaskier would sing to him lullabies and simple children's songs. Jaskier would 'dance' with him, spinning and dipping carefully, the child in his arms laughing and clapping along.

Unfortunately, this was very tiring, and while Jaskier _did_ try to snatch a bit of sleep while Geralt was napping, he occasionally overslept, which led to things like Geralt covered in honey, or flour, or ash from the fireplace.

(He hoped wood ash wasn't lethal poison to children; he was _positive_ Geralt had eaten some, but he had been asleep and so did not know for sure.)

Geralt had also somehow managed to break all of the bowls. They've been eating their porridge and soup out of cups and mugs. Luckily the plates were stored out of reach, and he'd only cut himself once, a small nick on his forefinger, easy enough to clean and bandage and kiss better.

Jaskier spent a busy hour moving everything remotely breakable out of arm's reach of his charming little scoundrel. Geralt had, at some point, discovered that no matter what kind of trouble he could get himself into, if he blinked up at Jaskier and grinned his little dimpled grin, the weak willed bard would gather him up in his arms and kiss his face and laugh.

Jaskier had some idea that discipline was something he would be worried about if he was an actual parent, gods forgive, but he wasn't, and Geralt was small, and cheerful, and so, _so_ , happy to be with him. So who cared?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a busy week at work coming up so the next update may be a while. I beg patience. Once again, let me know if there's a typo somewhere, anywhere.


	4. The end is coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you T^T

It had been a month.

Geralt _must_ be teenaged by now, given his size and general surliness. Jaskier was having trouble with how fast he had grown. His darling scoundrel, grim faced and quiet.

Despite all the stomping about and extreme glowering Geralt was prone to now, he still came up to Jaskier in the middle of the night, when nightmares kept him from sleep, to hide his face in the crook of his neck.

He had known, of course, that whatever training, whatever trials, they put the boys who would become witchers through _had_ to be brutal. Had to be agonizing. Had to be _thorough_. 

But he wasn't prepared to watch Geralt lose his smile, his laughter. Not for that; certainly not for the nightmares. Not for the way Geralt would startle, often when Jaskier moved just a bit too swiftly, walked a little too quietly. 

The boy had taken to training in the garden with almost no rest, grabbing one of his swords, not that he knew it was, from where Jaskier had hidden the rest of Geralt's things and simply working himself into exhaustion.

Still, though, in the dark, he would crawl next to Jaskier, shivering with some great feeling, weeping until he slipped into a restless sleep.

\--**--

Jaskier is more than happy to do whatever Geralt needs, to _be_ whoever Geralt needs, but it is so worrying, that it's been so long. Geralt knows Jaskier, always, but he doesn't _remember_ him.

Jaskier wonders, especially on the worst of the bad nights, when his friend calls for his mother in his sleep and cries, and cries, and _cries_ that- perhaps it would be better if he never did.

\--**--

He wakes up one day to find Geralt as white haired as when they met, though a sight less burly and thinks-

This is the end coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny update. The angst arrived and stabbed me in brain and this fell out and I am sorry. I guess I wasn't done writing today, and hopefully tomorrow I will have the last chapter ready to go.


	5. Something Old, Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mind the head_ , he thought, a bit lamely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a long chapter but the last. I should have posted this fic as one chapter when it was done, but I'm actually pretty satisfied with this, even if it took me way, way too long.

After that morning, it was less than a week before Geralt is completely as he was before Yennefer had breezed through and dropped a baby in Jaskier's lap. _Mind the head_ , he thought, a bit lamely.

It's been a balm to the battered parts of his heart, to have spent so much time with his great, _true_ , love, but Geralt is pulling away, pulling on his armor like it can shield him from more than monsters or angry townsfolk. He looks, almost, like he's expecting Jaskier to lunge across the room and attack him.

He can feel loss and heartbreak bubbling up his throat, stinging at his eyes. So. So things will be as they were, a ruination of friendship, of love, and suddenly Jaskier is moving, is laying a hand softly on his friend's arm, is whispering _why don't you stay, just for one more night?_

And Geralt _does_. He discards the armor; holds Jaskier close, close the way he's dreamed about, the way he's _yearned_ for.

Things aren't the way they were, before the dragon, and the mountain, and the words that carved themselves deep into the softest bits of Jaskier's soul-

But it's perhaps the start of something new, built on the foundations of an older thing, stronger and more enduring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this in parts bc it's coming to me very slowly and I couldn't tell you why. I swear on Roach that this will be a mutlichapter fic I finish!


End file.
